Strangers make scarecrow-haired, lurching-out-of-a-St Kilda-alley-blues traceable back to when Nick Cave was still working out one end of a needle from the other.
Let's start with their Bandcamp descriptors: 'alternative beautiful heavy post-punk sexual violent Melbourne'. Yep, about covers it. Strangers make scarecrow-haired, lurching-out-of-a-St Kilda-alley-blues traceable back to when Nick Cave was still working out one end of a needle from the other. Gabriel Santos' pitches are somewhere between whimper and hysteria as Porajmos' repeated pleas to "Kiss me till we die…" bounce off the walls. And yet, even as they revel in their own Ugly, the delivery of the melodrama has a sincerity to it. You are carried along, almost in spite of yourself.